Spirits in the Park

by Scott Mebus

  “He’s still up there!” he screamed. “He’ll never make it down in this! What do we do?”

  “We can’t do anything! If we try to climb up the mast in this, we’ll get blown away like a feather!”

  Her face showed that she agonized over the decision, but she was firm. Rory, however, would not give up.

  “Maybe one of the sailors can help us?” He glanced around but every hand was busy trying to hold the ship together. Pirates clung to the rigging, trying to fight the wind as they finished tying up the sails. There was no one to help them.

  “I’ll go,” he said finally.

  “What! No! That’s suicide. Come on, we have to get you to safety.” She crawled up to him and began to pull him toward the hatch. He yanked himself away.

  “I have to! He’s saved my life over and over. I can’t leave him!”

  “You don’t even know if he’s alive up there. You’re too important to risk. I’ll go.”

  She looked terrified but resolute. Rory would not let her risk her life for him. He was tired of everyone taking the bullet for him. Fritz was his friend and he needed him. Rory waited for the next wave to break over them and then leaped to his feet. He raced across the deck, past a soaked Captain Kidd, who was still giving orders.

  “Hey!” Kidd cried as he saw Rory run past. “Where are you going? I told you to get below!”

  Rory ignored the pirate captain, launching himself at the mast. He had just enough time to get a good hold of the rigging before the next wave hit. He spat out more salt water, shook his eyes clear, and began to climb.

  The higher he climbed, the harder the wind beat at him. The rigging was slick with rainwater, and he had to fight to keep his grip. He couldn’t look back, because he knew he’d freeze with fear, so he gritted his teeth and reached out for the next handhold. Slowly he rose up the mast, fighting to stay on.

  “Hold on, Rory, it’s a big one!” he heard Alexa cry behind him, and he had just enough time to wrap his arms in the rigging before the huge wave hit.

  The entire ship leaned to starboard under the force of the wall of water. Rory went blind for a moment as the water poured over him, blocking out all his senses. He felt his arms weaken as the force of the wave threatened to pull him off the mast. But somehow, when the water cleared, he still hung from the rigging. The ship, however, had tilted almost sideways. He was hanging mere feet above the sea, perpendicular to the mast, and for a second he thought for sure they would capsize. Somehow, thankfully, the ship slowly righted itself, and he fell back against the mast. He went to pull out his arm from the rigging and resume his climb when he hit a snag.

  He couldn’t budge.

  The rope from the rigging had wrapped itself around his arms, pinning him to the mast. He couldn’t move them even an inch. Terrified, he finally looked back down at the deck. Alexa was clinging to the mast, trying to climb after him. She looked as frightened as he felt. He watched as she realized why he wasn’t moving. But before she could pull herself up, someone ran through the door from down below. It was Simon, and he was . . . laughing.

  Where was the moping, scared boy who wouldn’t leave his stateroom? This Simon nimbly raced across the wet deck, waving up at Rory. He reached the base of the mast and yelled up.

  “You look like a trussed turkey! Need a hand?”

  Rory could only nod. Simon turned back to an equally stunned Alexa and gave her a thumbs-up. Then he leaped onto the rigging and swiftly pulled himself up. Alexa shouted another warning and Rory ducked his head as a wave beat down on them. Looking back at Simon, he was shocked to see the older boy spitting a stream of salt water into the air like he’d just come up from a dip in his bathtub. Simon grinned up at him, and quickly climbed to Rory’s side.

  “Ouch,” he said. “Looks painful.”

  “Simon! What is wrong with you?”

  Simon’s eyes flashed as he grinned from ear to ear.

  “Wrong? There’s nothing wrong. In fact, I’d say that everything is finally right! Let’s get you untangled, shall we? Then we can enjoy this magnificent storm from ground level.”

  “Wait! Fritz is up there. I’m afraid it may be too late—”

  “Well, let’s see, shall we? Hang tight until I get back!”

  With that, Simon scampered up the rigging like a spider monkey, giving no thought to the driving wind and rain. He reached the crow’s nest and disappeared inside. Rory’s heart froze as he waited. Finally, Simon leaned over and gave him an okay sign. Rory felt like a huge weight had lifted. Fritz was all right.

  Simon slid down the mast as if it were a fireman’s pole, stopping himself when he reached Rory.

  “He’s A-OK. He was wedged in the corner, which was why he didn’t fall out. Lucky sucker. I’ve got him in my pocket. Now let’s see to you!”

  Simon dangled from the mast by one hand as he rifled around his belt. Rory was sure the boy would fall, but he somehow kept his grip. Finally, Simon pulled out a knife.

  “Hold on!” he said brightly. “Wouldn’t want to lose you now, eh?”

  He reached over and sawed at the rigging above Rory’s hands. The wind had ripped open Simon’s shirt, and Rory thought he saw a flash of something gold around his neck. Before he could look closer, the ropes came free and he had to cling quickly to keep from falling.

  “Come on!” Simon cried, sliding down the rest of the mast. Rory followed more carefully, but thankfully the largest of the waves had passed. He hit the deck with a thud and collapsed. Alexa ran over and began to smack him on the shoulder.

  “You idiot! You could have died up there! Where would we have been without you? That was the most selfish, stupid, thickheaded—”

  “Hold a moment, Alexa.” A weak voice rose from Simon’s hand. It was Fritz, white-faced but alive.

  “Fritz!” Rory and Alexa both rushed to lean over the battle roach, who spoke up at them, his voice shaking.

  “Rory, everything Alexa is saying is correct. You can’t risk yourself like that, you’re too important.”

  “But—” Rory began.

  “Wait, let me finish. It was stupid, but I thank you anyway. And you especially, Simon. Both of you saved my life. I owe you both a debt I can never repay. Thank you.”

  Rory’s eyes welled up and even Simon looked gratified and surprised. Alexa quickly broke that spell by turning on her fellow Rattle Watcher.

  “What was that, Simon? What is going on! One moment you’re too afraid to even leave your room, then the next you’re climbing up that mast like an acrobat! You better explain yourself, and fast!”

  Simon opened his mouth to speak, but before he could answer, a shout interrupted them.

  “Man overboard!”

  They all spun around to stare over the side. The rain had slackened, but the storm wasn’t over yet. Wind still lifted the waves into heady peaks and valleys. They scanned the dark water for any sign of life; at first there seemed to be nothing out there. Then Rory saw it, a few yards out. A small canoe, capsized, and a man clinging its side. Hope and fear simultaneously ran through him. Could it be . . . ?

  The man waved at the ship, allaying Rory’s fear for the moment. The sailors tossed a line over the side. Soon the man was lying on the deck gasping for air. Rory ran to his side, and his throat tightened as his hope was confirmed. The man saw him, his eyes widening.

  “Rory . . .”

  “Hello, Wampage,” Rory said, tears pouring down his cheeks. “Am I glad to see you.”

  The storm had passed, leaving the Adventure Galley in still waters. So calm, in fact, that they weren’t moving at all. The wind had completely died down, leaving them becalmed. Wampage dried himself off on the deck as Rory and his friends gathered around him. Rory quickly explained their mission, which Wampage took in impassively.

  “You have had a difficult path,” he said finally. “And I fear it is not getting any easier. A great storm is coming.”

  “I know,” Simon said brightly. “And it was awesome!”
r />   “Not that small thing that just blew by,” Wampage continued. “That was but a hint of what is coming. I rode here with the true storm at my back, and I fear we will not be able to beat it back home.”

  “What kind of storm are we talking about?” Alexa asked.

  “I believe it is the catastrophe we were warned of, the island’s last, greatest effort to shake the Trap off its back. The earthquake was but a nuisance compared to what approaches.”

  “How can you know that?” Fritz asked.

  “How can I not?” Wampage sighed and said no more. Rory couldn’t bear it any longer.

  “Did you find that god you were looking for?” he asked. Wampage glanced over at him and smiled sadly.

  “Kishelamakank? Yes,” he said. “I found him. On an island far from here. He had been living there for years and years. And he had been expecting me. He had food and drink waiting for me when I paddled into his harbor. He lived simply, but happily, or so it seemed. But he was very weak. He has been almost forgotten. He had just enough strength left to know I was coming, and that a storm would rise soon after. We spoke of many things, most of which I keep in my heart, but when our talk turned to our people, he had a command for me: I was to return home and help our people through this storm. For it comes to tear us all apart. Our time has run out, Rory. We must open the Trap, or we will perish.”

  They stood there for a moment, stunned into silence. Finally, Simon turned to the others.

  “Well, that’s a bummer,” he said.

  “Where is Kish . . . um . . . Kish . . . ?” Rory began.

  “Kishelamakank?” Wampage said for him, smiling slightly.

  “Where is he now?” Rory finished.

  “He is gone.” Wampage looked away. “Memory could no longer sustain him. He had been waiting for me—to warn me. He faded, leaving behind a gift. It was a sad day for my people.”

  “What did he leave you?” Simon asked, and Alexa elbowed him for his rudeness.

  “A single bead of bright blue wampum,” Wampage answered him. “The rarest kind. It contains his final breath. With that breath he told all of our lost stories. I will spend the voyage listening to them, absorbing them so that they will survive in me. If we make it back before the storm, that is.”

  “How far back is that storm?” Alexa asked.

  “Half a day. We must turn back now.”

  “No!” Rory cried, startling them all. They turned to stare at him. “We’re out here for a reason. To find my father. We can’t go back without him. We’ve barely even tried!”

  “It’s too dangerous,” Wampage said. “You cannot risk it.”

  Captain Kidd walked up. “Am I interrupting?” he said. “Glad to see you’re all right, savage.”

  “Don’t call him a savage,” Alexa snarled. Kidd smiled.

  “Sorry. Old habits die hard. We have to decide what to do. I overheard you talking about a storm bigger than the one we just lived through. If that is true, we need to head back toward the mainland.”

  “If you do that, our deal is null and void,” Rory said darkly. The others gave him anxious looks but he would not budge. “I came out here to find my father. The storm isn’t here, yet. Wampage says we’ve got half a day. I can’t go back yet, not when there’s still a chance we could catch him.”

  “Rory, you’re not—” Alexa started, but Kidd put up a hand.

  “It is your decision, Rory,” he said. “Everyone’s lives are in your hands. Are you certain you want to go on?”

  Rory nodded. Kidd bowed slightly.

  “Then we break out the oars,” he said.

  Hours passed as they rowed the ship farther into the mist. Everyone was tense, as many of the sailors had overheard Wampage’s warnings. Alexa wasn’t speaking to Rory, she was so angry. Simon seemed unconcerned, flitting about, trying to learn how to sail and failing horribly. Rory wondered what was going on with him, but he was too wrapped up in the search for his father’s ship to think much on it now. Wampage lay on the deck, staring up, lost in thought. Rory stood at the bow, staring into the fog, desperately searching for sails in the mist.

  “How long are you going to give this?” Fritz asked from his place on Rory’s shoulder. “What if his ship got caught up in the storm and sank? What if they never came this way after all? There are so many what-ifs here, Rory. Are you willing to bet all our lives on them?”

  Rory didn’t want to hear this.

  “Everyone’s been saying ‘Talk to Harry Meester!’ So that’s what we’re going to do.”

  “Even if it kills us?”

  Rory’s throat was so tight he couldn’t speak. The bow of the ship blurred as he blinked angrily. Fritz shook his head, eyes filled with compassion.

  “Rory, come on. You and I both know that you’re not doing this for anyone but yourself. . . . But it’s not too late. You need to let go.”

  Rory looked away, wiping a tear from his eye. His hand came away wetter than he expected. It was starting to rain. “I’m sorry, Fritz,” he said, ashamed.

  “Keep your apologies for when you need them,” Fritz said. “For now, let’s just go home.”

  Rory nodded, his hair moving slightly as the wind finally picked up. A happy cry came from behind him as the sailors realized they no longer had to row. But before they could truly celebrate, the wind exploded into a gale, rocking the ship. Rory reached out and grabbed Fritz, to keep him from falling. The roach yelled up at him.

  “It’s here!”

  Rain began to fall, faster and faster. With a sick feeling, Rory realized that Fritz was right; the storm was here and it was too late. Fear swept over him as the wind pushed him back. Had he doomed them all? He ran back to the stern, where his friends waited with Captain Kidd.

  “Turn her around!” he yelled.

  “It’s too late,” Kidd screamed back. “We’ll never outrun her.”

  Rory’s heart sank as he looked around at his friends.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said hopelessly. Alexa sighed but said nothing.

  “I’m not worried,” Simon announced. “What’s a little wind?”

  As if in answer, a huge gust of hurricane-strength winds thrust the ship sideways. They all had to scramble to keep from being blown over the side. Rory knew that this time they wouldn’t ride out the storm. This time they’d be battered to pieces. And it was all his fault.

  In the midst of all this terrified confusion, Wampage calmly lifted himself off the ground. His eyes were flowing, but his face was determined.

  “I am sorry, Kishelamakank,” he said, reaching out his hand. “I will remember what I can.”

  He opened his hand, and inside lay a brilliant blue bead. It began to glow brightly, and Rory realized that he could hear words on the wind. They were the lilting syllables of a beautiful language, filled with music and light, and it made his heart glad to hear it. Wampage lifted his hand toward the sails, and they filled under the force of those beautiful words.

  “Hold on,” the Munsee warrior warned them. He turned to Captain Kidd, who was staring at him with his mouth open. “Steer us home.”

  Kidd’s face changed as the realization dawned over him. He ran back to his helmsmen.

  “Steer us west! If you let that rudder budge, I will cut you in half!”

  The words on the wind rose as the sails billowed. There was a large shudder as the Adventure Galley lurched forward. Alexa turned to Rory, awe on her face.

  “Those are the stories of his people,” she said.

  “Well, they’re saving our hides,” Simon replied. Sure enough, the ship was moving forward now, faster and faster, as the tales of Kishelamakank drove them on. Wampage held the bead aloft, sending his people’s voices into the sails, all the while muttering under his breath. Rory stepped up beside him to hear what the warrior was saying. Wampage was repeating the same mantra over and over again.

  “I will remember. I will remember. I will remember. I will remember.”

  On and on, he recited tho
se words as the ship broke free of the rain and raced westward, leaving the storm behind. The wind still blew all around them, but it was a good, clean wind. A wind that guided them home.

  23

  ATOP THE GREAT HILL

  The dim light of dawn crept through the cracks of the roof of the stable. Bridget lay serenely on her back, listening to the birds and insects gradually waking up outside. So she was beyond startled when a voice whispered right in her ear.

  “There’s someone outside!” Hans hissed.

  Bridget bolted straight up. Beside her, Soka and Finn were sitting up, rubbing their eyes. She stared down the ladder at Tucket, who stood staring at the doors to the stable, growling in the back of his throat. Soka quickly climbed down, staring out through the slats of the stable door.

  “I don’t see anything,” she whispered back. Bridget followed her down, carrying her backpack. She peered out at the tavern through the door; it stood still in the gray, early morning light. The grass glistened with dew, and no one stirred. Finn stepped up next to her, placing his eye to the opening between doors.

  “It looks quiet out there to me,” he said.

  “I saw something, in the bushes,” Hans insisted. “I couldn’t quite make it out, but it was definitely a person—who didn’t want to be seen.”

  Bridget glanced back at Soka. “Sounds like Askook to me.”

  “How are we going to get past him?” Soka asked, raising her arms helplessly.

  “Will you keep it down, some people’s heads hurt!” a voice called from the back of the stable.

  Startled, they all hurried back to check on who was in the stable with them. Two men lay in the last stall, next to one of the horses. Bridget recognized them as the soldiers Catherine had kicked out the night before.

  “It’s too early for all this talking,” one of them was saying.

  “I thought you were going home,” Soka accused them.